‘Romería’ review: Delicate Spanish psychodrama could be more courageous

Early in “Romería,” the film’s main character, Marina, is asked by some children if she’s ever seen the Santa Compaña, a collection of ghosts who, in Spanish legend, supposedly wander in a pack across the landscape. Humoring the kids, Marina says she hasn’t. That’s good, one of the girls responds. “They’re spirits that can’t die.”

As it happens, Marina is actually on a journey of sorts to connect with the dead — and so is Spanish writer-director Carla Simón, whose third feature is an autobiographical tale about her own quest to make peace with her late parents. Slender but flecked with magical touches, “Romería” is so gentle it never quite qualifies as haunting. Nonetheless, Simón stirs up the ineffable sadness that comes with wanting answers to the mysteries of your family — and then, like it or not, receiving them.

Newcomer Llúcia Garcia plays Marina, an 18-year-old aspiring filmmaker. It’s July 2004, and she’s traveled to the picturesque port city of Vigo to obtain government paperwork that will make her eligible for a university scholarship. She never knew her father Alfonso, who died in 1987. For some reason, there are no records indicating that she was his daughter. Hence the trip to Vigo to see her paternal grandparents for the first time so she can authenticate her ancestry.

Simón, whose previous features “Summer 1993” and “Alcarràs” also grappled with family matters, follows along with Marina on the way to this anxious meeting. Marina’s mother died only a few years after Alfonso, making Marina an orphan. But the mom’s parting gift, a diary, provides opaque glimpses into her life with Alfonso in the mid-1980s. Before Marina arrives at her grandparents’ home, though, she must run a gauntlet of uncles, aunts and cousins, their reactions to her existence varying from warm to wary. Repeatedly, Marina is told she looks just like her mom, but the comment occasionally contains a trace of bitterness. Many of these new faces view her as an unwelcome reminder of a past they’d prefer to forget. When they see Marina, it’s like they’re looking at a ghost.

The strongest component of Garcia’s doe-like performance is the way it captures someone in the midst of shedding her adolescence, gingerly trying on adulthood. Over the course of a few days, this bashful teen, always armed with her camcorder and far less free-spirited than her cousins, will be beset by her father’s feuding family. Silently observing the passive-aggressive maelstrom, Marina will receive an intense immersion in what her life might have been like if he’d lived.

But she quickly realizes that their memories of the man are far from perfect. No one can decide exactly where Alfonso lived in Vigo. And, more troublingly, Marina’s belief that he died in 1987 is contradicted by relatives, who insist that it was five years later. If Marina has that information wrong, what else does she not know?

“Romería” is hardly the first film in which an impressionable soul goes on the hunt for the parents she never had. Likewise, viewers will not be startled when Marina eventually discovers painful secrets about her mom and dad that cause her to reconsider those phantom figures.

Simón, who undertook a similar odyssey at the same age, never allows this delicate story to succumb to self-indulgence or an inflated sense of its own importance. Instead, her film is suffused with a rich, casual immediacy. Simón and her star bracingly recall the electricity of youth as Marina prepares for life as an artist. The movie, in part, is about how she finds her voice.

Simón’s films favor naturalism and “Romería” leaves ample room for Spain’s seaside beauty and glorious sunshine. The calming locales both complement and contradict the plot’s revelations, which are hardly bombshells but do speak to how well-to-do families labor to shove inconvenient skeletons into the closet. If anything, Marina will be more shocked by her grandparents (José Ángel Egido and Marina Troncoso), whose fiercely icy demeanor suggests this teenager should consider herself lucky not to have grown up around them.

Because “Romería” is a coming-of-age story, Marina will be tempted by cute boys; she’ll also begin to display a rebellious streak. As the picture rolls along, Garcia shows a more assertive side, relishing her character’s emergence from her shell. But this modest saga saves its biggest surprise for its final reels, when the narrative folds in on itself beguilingly, allowing Marina to relate to her mom and dad in ways she never had before. Maybe we can never truly know our parents, but if we’re lucky, we can gain the maturity to one day see them in ourselves.